


Beware of the Snake

by walking_contradiction42



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Bickering, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Meetings, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), a lot of it, actually this is just an excuse to write the two fighting the entire time, basiclly aziraphale thinks crowley is bad and crowley just has a crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29923605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_contradiction42/pseuds/walking_contradiction42
Summary: Aziraphale has spent his many years on earth in solitude, feeling alienated from his fellow angels and somewhat distant from the humans surrounding him. His only friend is a common garden snake, resident in St. James Park.Or maybe the snake is not so common.Crowley just feels like, at this point, he is in way too deep and there is no way he can ever reveal his true identity to Aziraphale.Then things happen. The apocalypse is only one of them.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 62





	1. One

“I hope you see why this is such an important matter.”

Aziraphale tried to keep from wrenching his hands too much. He felt exposed under the judging gaze lying upon him. “Yes. Bringing about the apocalypse sounds very much like an urgent problem,” he agreed.

His superior, the archangel Gabriel, laughed. Aziraphale never quite liked his laugh. It was too jovial, too booming and it never seemed to reach his unsettling purple eyes. “Oh, the problem is not such much with bringing about the apocalypse. It’s more the, um, way in which it is executed. We can’t have a bunch of foolish mortals running around, starting the final days a few years too early and ruining the Almighty’s ineffable plan.”

Aziraphale tried to lick his dry lips. “So Armageddon will happen anyway? Even if I manage to stop these people?” 

“Well, of course it will. The Antichrist is already an earth. It’s only a matter of time.” Gabriel shook his head, chuckling, as if Aziraphale had just said the silliest thing ever.

Aziraphale’s heart dropped. For so many years he had been told that the end of the earth was the one thing all angels were ought to look forward to. But all this time something hadn’t set right with him about it. Now that the developments had apparently been set in motion, these feelings only deepened.

“The-the Antichrist is already on earth?” he whispered.

“Oh sure he is. Has been for a few years now, actually.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“We didn’t? Must have slipped our minds somehow. It doesn’t matter. You would have noticed it soon enough. Burning seas, fish rain and all that.” He laughed again and patted Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Just pop over there, have a quick look around and make sure they don’t do anything stupid, will you?” He nodded again and left before Aziraphale could say anything.

As silence fell a feeling of dread settled into Aziraphale’s bones. The end of the world was coming and he hadn’t even known. All these years he had spent on earth watching over humanity and soon all of it would be over. He would have to return to heaven, into the gleaming brightness and the spheres sounding with celestial harmonies. He should be happy. He was going home.

But he didn’t. He felt melancholic, sentimental for something he hadn’t lost yet.

No, no he was being ungrateful. Ungrateful for the years the almighty had given him. He should get over his silly attachments. He was an angel for heaven’s sake. Earth wasn’t where he belonged, where his loyalty should lay.

He needed a distraction. Yes that was it. Something to snap him out of his gloomy mood. He knew exactly where he would go.

And with a snap Aziraphale disappeared from the white halls of heaven.

+++++++++++++

“Uncle Crowley, look! Look what I got for my birthday!”

Crowley chuckled softly as Adam came dashing through the front door towards him, a bundle of black and white fur following closely after. He bent down to pet the small dog that was now jumping up his legs, equally enthusiastic to his nephew.

“And who might you be?”

“That’s Dog. He loves running and arguing with the neighbour’s cat.”

“Well, he’s a very good dog then,” Crowley said, still grinning. He stood back up, his long legs cracking under the pressure, and handed Adam the bag in his hands. “Brought you a little something. Maybe you can share it with your friends.”

“Ice cream!” Adam said and jumped with excitement. Crowley followed him and the happily barking dog inside.

“Mr. Crowley!” Brian and the other kids greeted him when he entered the crowed kitchen. There was a distinct smell of freshly baked cake in the air.

“Hello you three. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, we played the Spanish inquisition this morning!” Wensleydale explained proudly while shoving a whole fork of cake into his mouth.

Pepper nodded. “I got to torture the two of them on the swing!”

Crowley laughed. “Well, it must have been real horrible then.”

“It was.” Adam agreed. “But I was the head torturer, because it is my birthday and I am ten now. That’s two numbers already!”

Ten. Crowley tried very hard to mimic his usual sloppy smile, but the words shook something in him.

Ten.

So many years already. Crowley couldn’t believe how fast the time had gone by. And every year he feared a new that it would be the last. This year probably would.

Adam was a great kid and Crowley loved to spend time with him and the others from his little gang. But every time he saw him he was also reminded of the horrible things that were to come. The horrible things that Adam would do.

He tried to convince himself that maybe his influence would somehow stop the process, that he could remind Adam of the things that had actually mattered to him. But there also was the growing fear of the dark powers that lay dormant just beneath the surface. And what would it take to finally break them free?

Eleven. That was when Adam was supposed to end the world. _Only one more year._

Crowley couldn’t shake the feeling, even when he got back into his Bentley to drive back to London. He turned on the radio to distract himself from the cold hopelessness creeping up his back. As usual a Queen song started to play. But it was soon interrupted by a static noise.

“WE HAVE A MISSION FOR YOU, CROWLEY.”

Crowley had never learned to deal with the unease, the slight shivers his master’s voice gave him.

“Yes, lord?”

“THERE IS A CULT. THEY CALL THEMSELVES THE CULT OF THE SERPENT. THEY ARE TRYING TO BRING ABOUT ARMAGEDON. “

“The cult of the serpent, yeah? Never heard of them.”

“WE NEED YOU TO TAKE A LOOK AROUND. MAKE SURE THEY DON’T DO ANYTHING TO INTERFERE WITH OUR PLANS.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The static dropped without another word and the music returned to the car.

Crowley was sick of this. Sick of only working towards the destruction of the earth. Sure, looking over the Antichrist wasn’t that bad, but constantly hunting after stupid humans to ensure the safety of the divine plan?

Crowley just couldn’t bare thinking about the world burning, or the humans dying and the Great War between heaven and hell and all that. Spending all eternity only with his fellow demons really wasn’t something he was looking forward to. He always liked to have at least some years of safety between himself and Armageddon.

He sighed, looking out at the crowded streets which he wondrously speeded along without any accidents.

Then a smile crept on his lips. Even if his day had been rubbish so far, it would certainly get better from now on. It was Sunday, which meant that there was somewhere he had to be.

His mood lightened immediately and he even started tapping along on the steering wheel with the music, as he raced towards St. James Park.

+++++++++++

Aziraphale felt a lot lighter, as his steps carried him through the calming atmosphere of St. James Park. The people around him were laughing, chatting along and enjoying the late rays of the faint spring sun. The air smelled fresh and clear, with just a hint of snow and ice in it.

He strolled over towards a bench that to anyone but him would look just like any other bench on the perimeters. It stood under the wide branches of an old apple tree. Scattered around it were several piles of stones that still radiated comfortable warmth.

Aziraphale sat down, stretching his aching legs and sighed in content. The noises of the city had faded into the background and even the impending destruction of the earth seemed a little less horrible. Well, just a little.

Aziraphale sat there waiting, taking in the people around him and bathing in their ease and happiness. He even performed a small miracle as a young girl sent her ice cone falling to the ground. He made sure she would catch it just in time. He closed his eyes and inhaled the relaxing smell of grass.

Then something started shifting on the bench next to him. Aziraphale opened his eyes, smiling, and turned to look at the newcomer.

“You’re quite late, my dear,” he said.

Next to him on the bench was a snake. It was quite big for natural standards, at least a few feet, with dark black scales and a red underbelly. Aziraphale had often wondered, if it had escaped from a collector or maybe a nearby zoo. It was beautiful nonetheless. The scales shimmered in the sunlight and its eyes twinkled with a very humanlike mischief.

Also it seemed to have grown rather fond of Aziraphale. After the angel had accidently disturbed its sunbathing a few years ago, it had regularly accompanied Aziraphale in his afternoons on the bench.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was his angelic nature that attracted the animal’s friendship, but he certainly didn’t mind. The snake showed his affection und understanding like none of his angel colleagues ever could and would not laugh about the things Aziraphale had to say. Actually Aziraphale wasn’t even sure, if it could understand him. It certainly did show reactions to his words, but that could just be a coincidence.

“How have you been?” Aziraphale asked.

The snake hissed, lifting its head only slightly from the rest of its body.

Aziraphale chuckled. He imagined it meant quite good. Hopefully the mice had been particularly tasty this week.

“Well I’m very glad to hear that. I’ve been quite good myself. There was this Chinese restaurant I tried this week. The food was just scrumptious.”

Aziraphale talked some more about the food and the new book he had started to read. The snake coiled around itself and observed him with its big eyes. The attention felt validating, even if it was just a snake. This beautiful animal wanted to give its attention to him and that made his heart swell with pride.

Finally Aziraphale sighed. “But I’m afraid this is all going to be over very soon. You know, I spoke to my superior today. He told me that the antichrist is already here on earth.” His eyes fell on a smiling couple, wandering along the paths next to the still water of the pond and holding hands. They didn’t know what danger was lurching in the shadows of the future. “I didn’t even know. The world, your home, is going to burn and there is nothing I can do about it. I guess I really am an excuse for an angel.”

He felt something tickle the side of his hand. The snake had slithered closer and was carefully bumping its head into his skin.

Aziraphale gave it a sad smile. He appreciated the comfort the snake tried to give him, but it just couldn’t break the ice inside his chest. The snake now wrapped the upper part of its body around Aziraphale’s arm and tilted its head.

Aziraphale took a deep breath. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be so negative. Surely there is something I can do about it. Maybe if I can reach the right people or…” he trailed off. “I think I first ought to look into that thing Gabriel gave me. Maybe I can gather a few clues along the way.” He nodded, as new courage flowed through his veins.

“Thank you for your support, my dear.” He patted the soft scales on the snakes head. It leaned slightly into the touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm back on my bullshit! I await the day I will be able to stop writing enemies to friends to lovers. But today is not that day.
> 
> Thanks to the [ Big_ball_of_anxiety_and_cake ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_ball_of_anxiety_and_cake) for helping me work through this mess. Check out their stories. They are amazing.
> 
> This is actually the first story I ever completed before posting, so I’m thinking daily updates?
> 
> If you want to fangirl over Good Omens with me feel free to visit me on my [ tumblr ](https://walkingcontradiction42.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two idiots go searching for some cult people. Crowley has some problems with being in the closet (literally).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for extensive swearing, because well Crowley.

Crowley swaggered around the outside of the factory building. The old stones were dusty and most of the windows were broken. There wasn’t a single car to be seen, except for his Bentley, which was carefully parked on the dusty space before the entrance and which’s metal shone beautifully in the morning sun. A few birds were singing in the distance, the trees around him were sprouting their first leafs.

It was calm, too calm.

Crowley sniffed the air, with a hint of disgust lingering on his features. The area smelled like burned rubber and oxidizing metal. The typical smell of a slowly decaying work ground.

Nothing seemed even in the slightest suspicious. But that would be too easy right? If the mysterious cult could just have a sign pointing him to their next meeting. Or maybe a booth where they handed out flyers about the coming of the apocalypse, like their (only slightly less annoying) brothers and sisters in at the train station normally did it.

Crowley sighed. He would have to do this the old fashioned way then. With an aimed kick the rusting metal door swung open and banged against the inside wall. The sound echoed along the empty corridors. Somewhere a few pigeons made their hurried escape.

Inside the smell was only worse. Rotten matrasses, a lonesome trolley and other human waste littered the erstwhile production hangars. The ground was dusty from the crumbling ceiling.

Crowley liked the place. It felt like that sort of location where you could hole yourself up for a few centuries and only thing disturbing you would probably be the building collapsing on top of you. Unfortunately these places also tended to be the perfect murder scenes, drug caves or hideouts for shitty human cults.

Crowley could now hear muffled voices from down the hall. There was nothing much to make out, but it seemed to be at least three of them.

He pressed himself further into the shadows, nearly merging with the walls. The dust tickled in his nostrils.

As he slid through another doorway he suddenly found himself on a gallery, several feet above what seemed to be an old cooling tank. Now it lay gaping empty beneath him, almost entirely hidden in the shadows. Only light came from a dusted celling window high above them. Merely the weakest rays of sunshine managed to reach the silty tiles.

Crowley had been correct. It was three hooded figures that stood in one of the corners, talking to each other in hushed voices. Crowley wondered if they had read a handbook on how to look very cultish, because this dramatic act was beginning to get on his nerves. Hoods? Really?

He still couldn’t understand what they were saying. Their voices echoed from the walls and distorted into a dreadful mutter.

He looked around, trying to find any other hint towards what they were up to.

There was a circle drawn on the ground that looked very much like a summoning circle, except that all the important runes were missing. Crowley couldn’t really understand what they would try to achieve with that, because even an amateur would have to realise that this could never call for any being in its entire miserable existence.

What was even more interesting though, was a gigantic terrarium that was built into one side of the pool. It looked very modern compared to everything else, and the glass was painfully clean, giving view to a beautifully decorated interior.

The cult of the serpent, Crowley remembered. That was probably what their name came from, even if he couldn’t really understand what snakes had to do with bringing about the ending of the world? Maybe it was for style reasons? Should he feel flattered?

Crowley never gloated over his actions back in the Garden of Eden. He thought that it had mostly been the humans’ own curiosity anyway. Also the apple tree had just been _calling_ for trouble. If humans weren’t supposed to touch it, why would she put it directly in front of their noses and not on…the moon perhaps? Bit of an overreaction the whole kicking-them-out-of-paradise thing, if you’d asked him.

Either way it was a way for him to get more information. If he could talk to the snake, maybe it could tell him what those stupid cultists had been up to.

He was just about to transform into his original shape, when he felt the hot burn of a pair of eyes on his back. Instinctively he shot around to get a better look at the assailant. He started cursing himself under his breath already. Probably the cultists had noticed him, lingering on the gallery. He should have been more careful.

But it wasn’t the cultists. They were still deep in talk with each other, not even glancing in his direction. But where was the glaring coming from then?

He raised his head and was met with the intense stare of two very blue eyes. Those eyes belonged to a short man with pale blond hair and a very outdated fashion style. A man he would recognise anywhere.

What the actual fuck? What was Aziraphale doing here? Had he followed him? Was his cover blown?

His heart started galloping in his chest. It took his head a second to catch up with the situation.

Oh fucking fuck, he had just been about to transform into a snake. Aziraphale had been watching him. Watching him and he, the fucking idiot, hadn’t even realised. Aziraphale. Had. Nearly. Seen. Him. Turning. Into. His. Snake. Form. The snake form he had been talking to for the last couple of years. _Fuck._ He had been too careless. The angel could never find out about this. This was a fucking disaster. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A millisecond between him and the greatest screw up in his entire fucking, stupid existence.

Apparently his motionless staring had been going on too long, because Aziraphale started signing rude gestures with his hands.

_What are you doing here?_

Crowley gaped at him. The way the bright light from above illuminated his pale figure, so that he actually looked a lot like humans might imagine angels to look.

_Do these people belong to you?_

Aziraphale seemed angry, his hands signing away so fast, Crowley nearly didn’t catch the words. All the while he was glaring at him.

Crowley finally broke free from his staring. He was very glad that Aziraphale was so far away and that the whole building was left in darkness. Like this nobody would be able to see the embarrassing blush on his cheeks.

_No, are they with you?_ He singed back.

_Of course not!_ Aziraphale seemed infuriated by the suggestion. Crowley was somehow worried, that he would actually kill him. Gone was the affection he normally showed to his snake form.

Well, yeah of course it would be gone. You are a demon. He is supposed to hate and thwart you.

Crowley pinched his nose. His plan had erupted into a million pieces. Aziraphale was very much complicating the whole situation. And why was he here? He had been surprised to see Crowley, so at least it didn’t seem like he had followed him. So he didn’t know anything about his secret. That was good, very good. Maybe his superiors had send him here?

A new plan began to form in his head. A very suicidal plan, but in Crowley’s opinion those were the best anyway. Maybe if he could convince Aziraphale they could work together? The two of them against the cult people? That sounded like a very romantic action movie. They would walk out of this building with an epic explosion in the background and then Aziraphale would pull him close and… NO he was not going there.

He pushed his sunglasses up his nose then with a plop he materialized directly next to Aziraphale on the other side of the gallery.

Aziraphale shrieked and Crowley quickly put his hand over his mouth.

“Psht, fuck, are you trying to kill us?” he hissed.

He could feel Aziraphale’s laboured breathing under his fingers. His eyes were wide in fear and because they were so close Crowley could feel his heart rapidly beating against his chest.

He threw a worried look down on the cult people. They had turned around, looking around for the source of the squeak and one of them was now pointing at the two.

“Shit!” Crowley cursed. He was just thinking about whether he and Aziraphale would be able to take the cult people together, as Aziraphale used the distraction and smashed his elbow into Crowley’s stomach. Crowley let go with a surprised grunt.

While he was still trying to catch his breath, Aziraphale already hurried away towards the aisles Crowley had come from earlier. Crowley watched his figure disappear with tears of pain in his eyes. Well, he certainly had imagined their first meeting differently.

Behind him he could hear heavy steps, quickly climbing the steps to the platform. He had to get away from here.

He heaved himself to his legs, ignoring the sharp stinging in his gut and stumbling away, one hand always on the wall next to him for support. The steps came closer. With this speed he would never be able to escape them. Maybe he could hide somewhere and just wait it out?

He made it through the next door on his left, opening the rusting lock with a quick miracle. Inside was nothing but trash and a bent locker. He sighed. Of course it had to be a bloody locker. He limped towards the closet, one hand still firmly pressed to his gut. If he would ever talk to Aziraphale again he would definitely complain about the sharpness of his elbow. Everything about him looked so soft, how could his elbow be this sharp? Or was it his weapon? Did he specifically sharpen his elbow?

Crowley pressed himself into the tight space. It smelt like rust and was way too small for his lanky body. With the door closed he could feel his own warm breath, reflecting from the metal. Only a bit of light fell through two narrow slits on the height of his face.

He waited and listened to his breath echoing in the silence. The cult people walked past the door. Crowley could see their silhouettes through the slits. One went inside the room to check if he was there. He approached the locker and tried to open the door. The metal shrieked but didn’t give way. The door was stuck. Crowley’s heart was beating way too loud. He was a demon for fucks sake. He shouldn’t be hiding in a fucking locker.

After a few seconds of rattling the humans finally decided that he obviously couldn’t be inside and made their way down the hall. Crowley let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he had been holding. He waited a few more seconds, then he tried to push open the door himself.

It didn’t move. He pushed harder, but there was not so much he could do with barely being able to move at all. Still the metal didn’t give in. Crowley told the door very specifically what he thought about it. The door answered with still being ignorantly stuck. He pushed his whole weight against it and finally felt the mechanism giving way under him. Unfortunately there was nothing to stop his movement either, so he fell face first out of the closet, into the dirt.

Great fucking day. Getting stabbed in the gut by a literal angel with his weaponized elbow and then falling out of a closet and breaking his nose. Great. Fucking. Day.

His mood was still on the same low as he made it back to his Bentley. He had taken a look around but there was no trace of Aziraphale anywhere. Probably he had disappeared as soon as possible, while he, the idiot, had played twister in a locker.

He really wished, he could explain all of it to Aziraphale. He wanted to tell him about his incapacity at, well, everything and see the angel laugh about it. The thought about the little wrinkles around Aziraphale’s eyes made a warm feeling settle in Crowley’s gut.

Even if the angel wouldn’t want to spent time with demon Crowley, he still had his snake friend Crowley. At least this the demon had managed to (barely) not fuck up. And maybe they would meet again and maybe Crowley wouldn’t scare the living shit out of Aziraphale next time.

Small steps.

++++++++++++++++++++

Aziraphale had meanwhile made it to the nearest town.

He was very jumpy. His heart fluttered in his chest every time a car rushed past. He could still feel the demon’s cold fingers over his mouth, so close to squeezing out his life with one simple motion. It made him shiver.

No, he had been too careless. He should have been the first one to attack. He shouldn’t have given him the opportunity to make the first move. He had surprised him, caught him in an unsuspecting moment and Aziraphale had been vulnerable. No, next time he would just sent him straight back to hell where he belonged.

Aziraphale had never actually been this close to a demon before. Over his years on earth he had encountered many demonic atrocities, had seen what misery they could cause, but he never actually had been face to face. He figured he never wanted to again, either.

The demonic sparkle in these unnaturally yellow eyes. A shudder went down his spine.

He knew hell had put a representative on earth all those years ago, like he was a representative from heaven. Crawley his name was…or something like that. But he made a point in staying as far away as possible. And he hadn’t seen any trace of his adversary for the last decade or so. He had assumed the demon had gone back to hell.

Could the demon he met have been that Crawley? Or was it just an envoy from hell, tracking and supporting the work of this awful cult. Yes, that must he be it. The demons wanted to bring about the end of the world, right? So of course they had to support their horrible doings.

Aziraphale was so caught up in his thought that he nearly missed the panicked screaming that suddenly echoed along the street.

“Help! Let go you filthy bastards! Arg! Let go! Help!”

For a moment the blood in his veins froze. He thought of long claws and razor sharp fangs, grabbing an innocent human from the street, dangerous glee gleaming in narrow, yellow eyes and luring him, the aiding angel, into a deathly trap. He shook the thought away quickly. Someone needed his help. He couldn’t be delayed by his ridiculous fears.

Aziraphale rushed towards the noise. The distress and worry set him on edge. His skin was crawling with heavenly energy, ready at any minute to combust every possible danger into dust.

He didn’t make it in time. Everything was over way too fast. The only thing he manged to catch a glimpse of was what seemed to be a white van, speeding down the street, and some very distressed looking kids, a dog, and an ice cream cone on the ground.

“What happened?” he asked, still panting.

“They kidnapped our friend!” One of the kids said, his eyes wide in shock. He had dark, curly hair and the dog was stroking around his legs, as to give him emotional support. “Pepper. She was just here a- a second ago and then these people drove by and pulled her into the van and now- now she’s gone.” He seemed confused, but not as shaken by the situation as Aziraphale would have imagined. Maybe the realisation still had to sink in.

Aziraphale tried to give them a comforting smile. “Did you see who was in the van?”

This time the boy with a very filthy sweatshirt answered. He had his ice cream still in hand, but it was forgotten. “It was some creepy guys in hoods.”

Aziraphale stopped. “Hoods you say?” He carefully shifted his weight on his feet. The situation wasn’t ideal. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could help with. He took a deep breath and made a decision. “I’d say you better call the police. And tell your friend’s parents.”

The kids nervously looked at each other. “And what are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a very serious talk with some hooded people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the closet joke goes to [ Big_ball_of_anxiety_and_cake ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_ball_of_anxiety_and_cake) . 
> 
> This is actually one of my favourite chapters (apart from the one I wrote first, which we’ll come to later). Also it’s projecting on Crowley time again yelp.
> 
> Next chapter tomorrow!


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets attacked and naturally goes to visit his snake friend afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: description of a feeling of disorientation and panic, also swearing again

It didn’t take him long to find the warehouse a second time. And this time he wasn’t silent or careful. He just strode into the building with a confidence in his step, he didn’t actually possess. He was angry. There were a lot of things he could tolerate. Kidnapping innocent children was none of them. He would give these humans a piece of his mind.

The building was silent. Not even the wind was howling. It felt like the whole world was watching.

Aziraphale’s confidence quickly shrank. Maybe it hadn’t even been the cult people. There were a lot of reasons why kidnappers would have to wear hoods. Actually, this was a very stupid idea. He had no plan B. No back up.

He flinched when next to him a few stones came off the ceiling. The sound was upsettingly loud in his ears. Really, what was he thinking? Taking on a whole cult by himself? He should at least have told some of those human police officers. Make sure they knew where to look for the girl.

He had almost convinced himself to turn around again. Had convinced himself that this wasn’t actually the cult’s hideout, but all just a big misunderstanding. And also a doomsday cult had no reason whatsoever to kidnap a random girl. Right?

Then he heard the rustling of cloth above him. A hooded figure stood on a platform several feet above him. And they had something in their hand and was slowly putting it to their lips. The last thing Aziraphale could think was that it looked a lot like a bamboo cane.

Then something very sharp hit him in the neck. Surprised Aziraphale raised his hand to cover the spot of pain. In confusion he looked at the dart he suddenly held in his hand. The picture didn’t quite seem to reach his brain. A dart? Why was there a dart in his neck?

And why was he suddenly feeling so fuzzy? His vision was a bit swimmy. Like there was too much water in his eyes. Or like he needed glasses. But his eyes were completely fine. They always were. He was an angel. He didn’t need glasses. What a silly idea. He laughed.

Was that funny? Why was he laughing? What was he even laughing about? And why was he standing in the middle of an abandoned factory building? He didn’t like factories. They were way too artificial and spacious. He like things more cluttered, like his bookshop. Yes, he should definitely get back to his bookshop and sit down in his armchair, preferably. He still had so many books about cults he had wanted to read in.

Wait. Cults?

Aziraphale shook his head, slipping off a bit of the dizziness.

Cult. Dart. Dizzy. That could only mean…Poison. Not good.

He looked over at the platform, where, so he suddenly remembered, the person had stood. It was empty now. But there were voices coming from the corridors before him. And several heavy steps.

Also not good. He should really make his escape.

The teleport didn’t go as planned. He had wanted to appear in his bookshop, but he only made it till central London. Somehow the connection to his eternal force felt weaker. Like someone had put a clamp around the conduct. And it was growing weaker every second. A river slowly draining.

He made it over to a bench. The sudden buzzing noise of the busy London street lay heavy in his ears. Cars and humans bolted past, not a second to spare in their busy schedule. They didn’t even deign to look at him. They probably thought he was one of those poor homeless people, usually hanging around in the city centre.

He would hopefully have at least half an hour before the cultists could make it here. The factory had been near Tadfield and even while breaking all speed limits that would leave them with at least half an hour on the roads.

He really hoped they wouldn’t be able to track him. Of course there were spells for that sort of thing and especially with a miracle as huge as teleportation there would be traces of his power. But he had seen the summoning circle. Sloppy work. Hopefully they wouldn’t know any fitting spell.

Maybe he should just rest for a while. Close his eyes. Gather his power. Yes, he should really do that. That sounded like a very sensible thing to do. Although the wood of the bench was hard under him. But he had slept on worse. He would only close them for a second. And then he’d go right back to the book shop. Yes.

Aziraphale’s eyes flew open. He couldn’t remember closing them. His head hurt from where it had been laying on the backrest. He had fallen asleep. He didn’t know how long it had been, but the sun had set a noticeable bit. Panic grabbed at his chest as he stumbled back on his feet.

The whole world was swaying now, dots of white and black hindering his vision. It was the first time the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. He didn’t know if the poison would kill him. Maybe it would just knock him out for a few hours. But it couldn’t do that while he was still out in the open.

He had to…well, he wouldn’t make it back to the bookshop. Soho was too far a distance for walking. And miracles wouldn’t be an option he reckoned. He nearly let out a sob as he found his connection to his power completely severed. Where he normally found the swirl of holy energy was nothing now. Just a thick grey curtain he wasn’t able to push past. He felt so alone, so vulnerable.

But he had to keep it together. He was a warrior build for battle, he reminded himself. He could take a few humans, even in this weakened state. He straightened his jacket.

His best option would be to go for a crowded location. Even if humans were often totally oblivious to anything supernatural going on around them, they would still notice if someone tried to murder or abduct him in public. He would…

There was something in his head, something ringing when he thought about abduction. Something important. Something he had to do. But he wasn’t able to grab it. It was just always a tick out of his reach.

Suddenly his brain came to a halt. The glimpse of a thought vanished.

It was Sunday. He had forgotten about their weekly ritual! Oh God, his friend would be so worried. Aziraphale nearly laughed again. What was he thinking? Here he was, almost dying and worrying about the feelings of a snake!

But indeed St. James Park seemed like a fitting location. There always were a lot of people and the presence of his friend would surely give him some comfort. Also there were always a few good secret agents running around and meeting with their adversaries. That could come in handy.

Aziraphale took his first wobbly steps towards the park.

Hopefully he wouldn’t need it.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Crowley wasn’t being worried. No really, he wasn’t. He had no right to be worried over someone, who didn’t even know he could be worried about him. Did snakes worry?

No, of course it was perfectly fine, if Aziraphale didn’t want to come to the park today. Surely he had other things to worry about but the feelings of a simple garden snake. Maybe he was running around doing awfully holy things. Probably he just forgot about their ritual in the process.

Except that he hadn’t forgotten about their meeting on any other occasion. Even if was pouring, even if it was freezing cold and snowing, his angel and his amazing precious smile had been there, making sure Crowley was okay.

Also the shock of their first ever in person meeting was still deep in his bones. So yes okay, he worried. He worried that Aziraphale had somehow found out and would never show up again. He worried that the angel somehow hadn’t made it out of that factory building (even if Crowley had checked several times), and was now being tortured by cruel cult people.

So even though he tried to calm his nerves by slithering about in the freshly cut grass, there was an itching on his skin that he just couldn’t shake.

And just then, as Crowley was already thinking about popping over to the bookshop (about which’s location he of course had no clue) to casually check on Aziraphale through a window, the angel finally burst through the metal gates of the park. Crowley let out a sigh of relief. At least he had, if he would have been able to.

But the feeling soon passed. Aziraphale looked upset. And worried. He was slightly pale and his steps were quicker than his usually calm strode. He repeatedly looked over his shoulder, fear etched into his features.

Crowley slithered around the rough bark of the nearest tree, to get a better look at the angel. His tongue subconsciously flickered out between his fangs and he caught the familiar bitter taste of fear.

“I’m incredibly sorry for my belatedness, dear boy, but I’m afraid I put myself into a…situation.” Aziraphale’s eyes flickered again towards the entrance of the park.

There was something else about him. Something wasn’t right. Something felt wrong.

Crowley gave Aziraphale a caring bump with his snoot. As usual this educed the amazingly beautiful smile from Aziraphale. But it was strained. And it didn’t reach his eyes, like it usually did.

There were small beads of sweat on his forehead. His breathing was laboured, and Crowley could sense his heart rapidly beating in his chest.

In human form Crowley would have enriched the angel with the simple human phrase of _“What the fuck, Aziraphale?!”_ but unfortunately as a snake he had to use different tools in means of communication. So he slithered along a strong branch, level with the angel’s height, and finally plopped onto his shoulders. He wiggled around a bit until finally wrapping himself around Aziraphale’s torso. Like this the changes in Aziraphale’s natural body reactions were even more evident. Crowley could feel the heat of his skin against his soft and cool scales. He tilted his head to signal Aziraphale to continue talking.

Aziraphale chuckled softly and started carefully stroking the part of Crowley that was currently surrounding his chest. “Oh it’s nothing, I assure you. Got involved with a pack of truly uncomfortable people. Had a bit of a problem, but as you see, I did make it out.” He smiled again, trying to convince Crowley (and probably also himself) that everything was fine.

But Crowley knew it wasn’t fine. Aziraphale wasn’t fine. He trembled with fear and there was something he wasn’t telling. Something really bad by the looks of it.

Crowley hovered his head in front of Aziraphale’s eyes to give him a taxing look, his equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

Aziraphale’s eyes were beautiful as always, pale blue like a still lake illuminated by the moonlight, or ice crystals against his window on a winter morning. But there was something else. They were unfocused, a silvery fog hiding the usual clarity, and his pupils were dilated, nearly covering the whole of his iris.

Crowley hissed. He instantly regretted it, as he felt Aziraphale flinch under him, but there was no way he could hold it back with the hot ball of anger forming in his gut.

Crowley was a snake. Crowley was the original snake. Crowley knew how venom worked. Crowley had invented venom (although not totally intentionally, but that was a whole other story). He knew the signs. He knew what followed after.

Aziraphale had been poisoned.

The anger was electrifying, tickling along his scales and rushing through his veins. Crowley’s thought were going in circles, only forming variations of the same question over and over again: How could anyone do this? How could anyone hurt soft, innocent Aziraphale? Why would anyone even think about it? Aziraphale hadn’t hurt so much as a fly in his life. Why would anyone want to hurt him in return?

He got the answer to his questions sooner as he intended to.

There was a short turmoil at the entrance of the park as a group of three very angry looking people ran through the gates, holding what seemed to be flamethrowers. One of them pointed over at them shouting “There he is!”

Aziraphale went, if possible, even paler. “Oh dear.”

Crowley’s grip on him tightened and he bared his fangs at the approaching people. He could hear his blood pumping is his ears, a deathly mixture of fear and rage.

“Well, I’m very sorry, but I think I’ll have to leave.” Aziraphale whispered and tried to unwrap Crowley from his torso.

But Crowley had no intention of letting go. Aziraphale was in danger. And if he was correct about the contents of these flamethrowers, he was in lethal danger. There was no way he was letting him go, especially not in this state.

“Well, your attachment is very heart-warming, dearest, but I really do need to go.” Aziraphale’s hands were even shakier now, his voice quivering with unspoken terrors.

Crowley didn’t let go. Instead he pressed his scales even harder against Aziraphale.

“Please you need to let go. These people are really of the more uncomfortable sort of her creation and I don’t want you to get in danger. I’m afraid I’m fresh out of miracles, so there is no way I can protected the both of us.”

Something very icy gripped Crowley heart. Of course. How could he have been so blind? Aziraphale’s fear, the poison…they were blocking his ability to perform miracles. Crowley didn’t know how they had managed it, but now that Aziraphale was vulnerable it was way easier for them to hunt him down and put him away, so he wouldn’t interfere with their shady cult business.

At first Crowley’s anger increased. He couldn’t, for the love of God, understand how humans could be so cruel, so merciless at times. Demons, _he_ , was supposed to be the bad guy, tempting humans into foul ideas and spreading terror through the lands, but unfortunately most of the time the humans seemed to do his job for him. There was just no way he could come up with such elaborate plans just to hurt other humans.

His second reaction was pure terror and panic. Aziraphale was defenceless, there were three humans running at him with flamethrowers and Crowley was a snake.

Aziraphale continued tugging at him, trying to break free from his grip, pleading him to let go. The humans approached them with fast steps, the metal of their weapon gleaming dangerously in the sun. They were nearly there, only a few more meters till the fire would be able to reach them.

It felt like time was slowing down as Crowley made his decision. He could hear the vibration of the earth beneath their stamping steps. He could feel Aziraphale’s fear. Oh shit, he was so going to regret this. And then he let go.

It was like every single one of his scales was peeling from Aziraphale separately. Turning painfully slowly back into human features, his hair, his clothes, his sunglasses. Crowley instantly missed the warmth of Aziraphale’s body as the cold air swept around his thin figure.

He finished his transformation just in time for the three arseholes to make use of their weapons. With a _whoosh_ the destructive powers of the hell fire were unleashed. He felt the heat of the flames licking on his skin, as he appeared in front of Aziraphale and used his wings to shield him from their hunger.

The faces of those stupid cult people were almost worth the whole disaster. Almost.

Because after the fire had burned down and Crowley had snapped his fingers to send them somewhere hopefully very, very unpleasant, he felt Aziraphale’s fearful stare in his back.

Crowley’s heart dropped. This was the moment he had been fearing all his life. When everything would be over. He didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to see the disgust and hate in Aziraphale’s eyes.

He did it anyway. He had to make sure that Aziraphale was okay.

The angel stood there motionless, his mouth clenched shut, staring at Crowley.

Crowley didn’t dare move himself. Instead his awkwardly cleared his throat. “You okay?” he asked.

Aziraphale didn’t move either. It took him several seconds to snap out of his shock. He shook his head. “What-I-Yes-I-I-I think I’m alright…” he stuttered, the rest of his body still unmoving. His hand flew to his head, like he was trying to keep his thoughts together. “You-you-you are a demon?”

Crowley said nothing. His throat was welded shut. Fear burned in his gut. There was nothing he could say. It would only make things worse.

“I-I-I think…I should go,” Aziraphale said and tried to turn around. But apparently the stress had been too much, because as he tried to walk away with wobbly steps, his legs gave in under him and he collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have the physiology exam, I was preparing for at that time, to blame for this chapter. Typically dart poisons are poisons that will induce a paralysis and asphyxiation in the victim, so the hunter will only have to take one hit and collect their prey afterwards. A common example from South America would be Curare, which is won by boiling the bark of alkaloid plants.
> 
> The symptoms described here don’t really match a specific poison. It could be Atropin, which is for example produced by the Atropa belladonna, the deadly nightshade, and causes an increase in heart rate and inhibition of many bodily functions. It could also be latrotoxin, venom of the widow spiders, which induces states of anxiety and cricks. None of which are traditionally used as dart poison.
> 
> But then again Aziraphale is an angel and what do I know about angel physiology?
> 
> Next chapter tomorrow! And that is going to be a good one! *rubs hands eagerly*


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our bois have their first real talk. (Well I say talk, it’s more of a hitting each other with lamps and threatening with complimentary tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: swearing again, also mention of rape and torture (but in like one sentence and it didn’t actually happen)

Aziraphale woke up with a splitting headache. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to his head and tried to smash it into as many pieces as possible. Also his mouth was dry and tasted like something had decided to die in it some time ago.

He shuffled onto his other side, which send another jolt of pain running through his head. He nuzzled his head deeper into the pleasantly cool fabric of the sheets and breathed in the soothing smell of cinder and firewood.

Wait…cinder and firewood?

He bolted upright, which resulted in a wave of dizziness overcoming him. He very much felt like throwing up on the spotless, black silk covers of the bed. He tried to take in his surroundings, as much as possible with his whole vision swimming before his eyes.

He laid on a pompous king size bed, in an otherwise pretty empty room. The walls were a dark tone of grey and the floor was covered in dark marble. There was a small bedside table in equally dark wood and the grey curtains were shut, keeping out the rays of what seemed to be morning sun. Everything seemed really minimalistic and stylish but also depressingly gloomy.

Aziraphale set his bare feet on the cold ground beside the bed. A mild panic gripped him as he looked down on his uncovered toes. He couldn’t remember taking off his shoes and he also couldn’t see them anywhere. What had happened? Still the solid ground against the sensible skin was somehow reassuring and grounding. It made the constant swaying a bit more tolerable.

He pushed himself up from the bed, which took him way more strength than it should have. Aziraphale panted as he had to stay in the upright position for a few seconds. His legs and chest felt sore, like someone had applied to much pressure to his bones and had tried to stretch his muscles over their natural range.

He took a few careful steps. He was relieved to find that everything was still working, though with some difficulty. Cautiously he approached the door.

He had no idea where he was. He couldn’t remember getting here. His memories were covered by an unnerving blur, which only made his headache worse, if he tried to concentrate on it. There was something he needed to remember. Something involving a child, yes. The child had been…? The thought swam away again.

But now he did have a suspicion about where he was, which made a deep feeling of dread settle in his bones. The last moments before his passing out were equally indecipherable, but he did remember the black wings before him, the unnatural yellow eyes sneering down at him…

He tried to shake away the terror of these pictures as he leaned his ear closer to the door, listening for any sounds behind it. It was silent. No shuffling, no talking, just silence.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to do now. If his assumptions were correct, he was in immediate danger and it was a miracle that he was even still alive. But what should he do? Should he stay here? Wait for them to come to him? Hide like a coward under the bed and pray they would think he escaped?

No. He shook his head, which caused new waves of nausea to wash over him. He would have to fight his way out of this unfortunate situation. He wasn’t in best condition, but he was a principality of god and he would have to live up to that name.

He tried to work a miracle. Nothing happened. He tried again. He felt the slight tug of the powers at his core, but nothing more. There still had to be enough poison in his system to block his connection.

Well, that certainly made the situation more complicated.

He took another look at the room, searching for something he could use as a weapon. There was a slim ornamental vase in one of the corners. Too unwieldy.

The bedside table had a small lamp with an iron shaft sitting on it. Aziraphale picked it up and tried swinging it like a club. The metal was cool in his sweaty hands. Aziraphale nodded to himself. It was ridiculously small, but it would have to do.

He tried to whisper words of encouragement to himself as he slowly approached the door again. Everything in him wanted to turn around screaming and again seek safety under those fragrant covers. But he didn’t.

He was an angel. A warrior. A fighting machine.

He reaped the words in his head as he deliberately pushed open the door. To his great relief it didn’t make a sound but smoothly swung open.

The hallway behind it was dark, no windows in the grey walls. The light from the room behind him threw weird patterns on the floor. Aziraphale couldn’t see anyone.

His bare feet made slapping noises on the stone ground as he made his way deeper into the flat. He tried to supress a shiver of fear. His eyes kept darting towards the shadows in the corners, awaiting a figure with long fangs and razor sharp claws to jump at him. Of course there was nothing. He was being ridiculous.

Finally he had made it around a corner and he saw light coming from an open door way on the right. His steps became even more careful, his body pressed against the walls to coalesce with his surroundings.

He peeked his head around the corner.

On the other side was a spacious and modern looking kitchen. Like the rest of the flat everything was held in grey and black tones.

The most memorable thing however was the man leaning against the kitchen counter. Aziraphale couldn’t see much but his slim back and his fiery red hair from his hiding spot, but it confirmed his worst suspicions. The demon had both his hands on the countertop, staring out in the distance, the fingers of his right hand drumming nervously on the stone.

Aziraphale’s heart was beating so loudly, he was sure the demon must be able to hear it. But it seemed he was lost in thought. Maybe thinking about gruesome ways to kill him.

Aziraphale acted, before his hesitation could make all his courage crumble to pieces. He was sure that if he kept staring at the waves of dark energy oozing from the being before him, his fear would eventually get the better of him.

So he sprang from behind the door, rushed towards the demon and swung the lamp in his hand towards his head with a cry of desperation.

The metal did collide with the demons head, but it did less damage than Aziraphale had hoped it would. The demon merely snapped around hissing and started to rub the back of his head furiously.

“Ouch, what the fuck?”

Now that the two were facing each other, Aziraphale could finally take a look at the demon’s face. It was less of hellish grimace than he had expected. No fangs, no scales, no horns, no tentacles or any of the sorts. Actually, if he was being honest, it was quite handsome. High cheekbones, slim lips and an elegant nose.

Also it looked quite familiar. Yes, Aziraphale was fairly certain he knew him. It was the demon from the warehouse. The one that had already attacked him earlier that day. Aziraphale would recognise the red of his hair anyway.

It took Aziraphale a moment to shake off his initial surprise. Then he immediately took a step back. “Stay back! I’m warning you! If you dare come even one step closer, then…” he trailed off, hoping to keep the treacherous quiver from his words.

“What then? You gonna hit me with that stupid lamp, again?” The demon didn’t sound angry. Mildly irritated maybe. His voice was soft, even though Aziraphale could make out the slight trace of a hiss in it. He was still rubbing his head, glaring at Aziraphale from behind dark sunglasses. “I’m sorry to inform you that I have a very thick skull.”

“Then…then I’ll hit you somewhere different!” Aziraphale stuttered, painfully aware of how ridiculous that statement was.

The demon sighed and did something that looked a lot like an eye roll, which Aziraphale couldn’t really see behind the glasses. He snapped his fingers, performing a small miracle, and the lamp in Aziraphale’s hand disappeared.

Somehow it left Aziraphale feeling even more defenceless. Sure, a lamp was no opponent to a demons power, but at least he could _pretend_ to be able to fight him off.

While Aziraphale was slowly spiralling into a state of terror the demon clapped his hands and turned on his heels. “Sooooo, now that were done hitting each other…tea?”

If possible this left Aziraphale even more baffled. “T-t-tea? So you can…poison me?”

The demon huffed. “I don’t think there’s any sense in poisoning you again, is there?”

Aziraphale gasped. “So this was _your_ demonic interference all along? Hiring these humans to poison me so you could kidnap me?”

“What? No! The humans thought it up themselves! They are stupid cult, trying to bring about the Apocalypse, nothing to do with me!” Somehow he seemed…hurt? But surely Aziraphale was only imagining it.

“So you only exploited the situation? What is your goal, demon? Are you trying to blackmail heaven? Trying to break a deal?”

“God no, why would I want anything from heaven?” He opened a cupboard, taking out a box of teabags and placing two of them in miraculously waiting cups. His fingers started awkwardly fiddling with the cord of one, avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes. “I-I, um,” he cleared his throat, glancing up at Aziraphale for only a second before quickly looking back at the tea, “I don’t know how much you remember, but, um, we were in the park and…those human came after you and, well… I had to…interfere. And then you fell unconscious so I-, um, I took you here, so you are, um, safe.” His cheeks went slightly pink. Was he…embarrassed?

Aziraphale’s thoughts were racing. The whole situation didn’t make any sense at all. Demons were evil creatures, flourishing in the pain of other beings. This demon was his natural enemy, he should be proud to have captured an angel, taking great pleasure in his humiliation. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. Unless…he had done something he regretted. What if…?

Suddenly Aziraphale’s inside went ice cold.

“Oh heavens, you slept with me?!”

The demon went even redder. “What?! No! Gross! Why would I do that?!”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, if only for a second. Quickly he regained his defensive posture. “I don’t know. You are a demon! I thought that was your thing. Tempting people, lust, all that.” He made a vague motion with his hands.

The demon screwed his nose. “Doesn’t mean _I_ have to enjoy it as well.”

They stared at each other for a while, encased by uncomfortable silence.

“So…what was it then? Are you going to torture me?”

“No. I- they, …‘s not like that. I, um,” he groaned, “ngk, you’re making this way too complicated.”

“Oh _I’m_ making this too complicated?! You are the one that kidnapped me!”

“I didn’t kidnap you! Oh, for fucks sake.” He forcefully put down his teacup. “Look, I’m sorry. I was there. You were attacked by those stupid cult people, I panicked, okay? I didn’t know what to do and just jumped in. And then you just had to faint, like a fucking drama queen, so I took you here to keep you away from those arseholes. And did I mention they had FLAMETHROWERS?!” He had gotten louder over the course of his emotional outbreak, wilding waving about with his hands in the process.

Aziraphale didn’t know what to say. The only thing audible was the dripping of the sink and the droning of the fridge.

He just couldn’t believe that a demon would do all of this, just to keep him safe. This- this wasn’t right. This just wasn’t something any demon would do. They would be glad if someone took care of an angel for them.

But then again, the demon apparently had been with him for several years now and never attempted to kill him. It was the first time Aziraphale actually allowed himself to think about this. The demon was the snake. The snake was the demon. He had been _friends_ with a demon.

His first thought was about how many heavenly secrets he had possibly spilled to his adversary. How many lives did Aziraphale have on his conscious, for being so stupid and not realising the threat just before his eyes?

The second thought was even more horrible. Suddenly all the embarrassing things Aziraphale had told to his snake friend came rushing back to him. All his insecurities and hopes. Oh God, the things he had said about Gabriel and his other fellow angels. The demon knew it all. Probably he had been laughing in his sleeve about his stupidity the whole time. Frankly, it was incredibly humiliating. Suddenly the demon killing him in this instant felt like a very less horrid punishment.

“So did hell like all your stories about the pitiful, fretting principality?” he scoffed, not knowing how else to cope with the terrible truth.

The blush crept back on the demon’s face. “They never got to hear them,” he whispered, looking at his shoes rather than Aziraphale.

Aziraphale tried to open his mouth and complaining about the infuriating lie, but before he could the demon moved past him, shoving the finished cup of tea in his hands. “Let’s go in the living room. You should sit down.”

Aziraphale stared after him, speechless. Then he carefully followed suit. Obviously he couldn’t show any weakness, but his legs had really started to hurt again, the strain of standing for so long, finally taking its toll.

The living room looked just like the rest of the flat, everything black, grey and empty. But there was an immense, very uncomfortable looking sofa and a statue of two creatures, possible angels, limbs tangled in what seemed to be a fight.

The demon sat down on the sofa. Well not really sat, it was more like _draping_ himself over the sofa, splaying his limbs in every possible direction.

Aziraphale sat down on the opposite side, far away from the dangerous creature. The sofa was actually more comfortable than it look. Despite his earlier accusations, he took a sip from the steaming tea. It tasted like tea. No poison, at least none that he could recognise. In fact, it actually helped relaxing the tension in his muscles as lot. He could barely hold back a relieved sigh.

He looked at the demon from over the rim of the cup. The demon was staring right back at him.

“So…what are your plans then? If not torturing me or using me for blackmail.”

The demon shrugged, bending back his head to look at the celling. “Donno. Thought I’d take another look at that cult. Ya’know preventing them from starting the apocalypse and all that. You could join me, if you like, as soon as you’re feeling better.” He sheepishly peeked at Aziraphale from below in his sprawled position.

“So I’m your prisoner then?”

“Yes, sure. I’m holding you prisoner on my couch.” He grinned. The action also revealed no hidden fangs. It was just a normal grin, a nice grin actually. It showed little wrinkles around his eyes.

“You bound me to a sofa?!” Aziraphale exclaimed indignantly, almost spilling his tea.

The demon groaned. “God, I really thought 6000 years would be enough to understand sarcasm. Really, what do they teach you up there?”

“They teach us manners for a start!”

“Says the one hitting his host with a lamp!”

“It was self-defence!”

The demon was full on smiling now and even Aziraphale couldn’t help for the corners of his mouth to tuck up only a bit. He quickly fought the treacherous instinct, forcefully pressing his lips together. Somehow the whole situation felt lighter than it should. They were enemies, not old friends bickering over a cup of tea. What was he doing?

Silence extended again.

“I’m serious though. From what I’ve heard you’re not really keen on the whole Armageddon thing yourself. We could, you know, work together.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Working with a demon. I’m not falling for your cheap tricks.”

The demon rolled his eyes. “Or you could just stay insufferable.”

“Insufferable?! You’re a demon! You’re the insufferable one! You are keeping me prisoner and insulting my angelic grace!” Aziraphale had jumped to his feet, glaring down at the creature.

“For fucks sake I’m not keeping you prisoner! You can leave any time you want.”

Aziraphale stopped mid motion, lowering his accusing finger. “What?”

“You can leave if you want. I’m not holding you back.” The demon nervously ruffled trough his hair. “I- I wouldn’t advise it though. The poison will take a few more days to wear off and, you know, without miracles…”

Everything in Aziraphale yelled at him to just flee out of this damned flat, this horrible situation. But he didn’t. Somehow he felt weirdly…safe? Well, not _safe_ , more like safe enough, as in not in instant danger. It was stupid. The demon was his adversary, a ticking time bomb of destruction. But he was also oddly intriguing. His behaviour was so different from that of his angelic colleagues, and far different from everything he had heard about their sort.

And just exactly there lay the root of Aziraphale’s problem. Because he wanted, not he _needed_ to know. In all his years on earth he had been faced with so many new and brilliant inventions and Aziraphale needed to _understand_ them. Because what was the point in all these amazing things, in the beauty of her creation, if no one really appreciated it?

And so even if he left now, if he ran away from this demon, there would still be the familiar nagging feeling in his gut. A feeling he just wouldn’t be able to shake, because there was something out there he was missing.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything. He simply sat back down, deliberately staring in the other direction and sipping at his tea. He didn’t want to see the smug expression on the demon’s face.

“I’m Crowley by the way.”

Crowley not Crawly. So it had been him after all. Aziraphale silently tried the name on his lips. It felt unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

Aziraphale looked back up, only to find himself confronted with an unreadable expression. The demon had pulled his long legs to his chest, resting his head on top of his knees.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Aziraphale.” He finally said after another sip of tea.

Crowley grinned. “Pleasure to finally properly meet you, Aziraphale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo the fateful first meeting, huh. As you might have guessed, this is my favourite chapter and also the first scene I wrote for this story. I apologize in advance for the huge amount of ‘ngk’s the next chapters will contain. Feel free to tell me what you think!
> 
> Next chapter is tomorrow! (although I still need to work out how exactly to split the next bits, yikes)


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bois talk (midnight edition (but not the doctor who episode (cause that would be creepy)))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: Swearing (but just occasionally this time)

Aziraphale really tried not to get too comfortable over the course of the day. No really he didn’t, even if the idea of resting his head back on the armrest sounded incredibly tempting. Of course even the demon’s bloody sofa had to be tempting! But he would stay strong. He didn’t really say anything else, just kept glaring at Crowley from behind the cups of tea the demon kept making him.

Crowley seemed uncomfortable to say the least. He was fretting about, trying to keep himself busy with cleaning the flat, (which didn’t actually need any cleaning, because Crowley expected it to always be in its best condition). A few times he tried to engage some awkward conversation with Aziraphale, but quickly changed his mind, after he was met with another death stare.

So after a while he went to watching Golden Girls on the other side of the sofa, which Aziraphale receipted with an annoyed huff.

Meanwhile Aziraphale tried to sharpen his senses, pick up on any danger in the flat, and be ready to strike at any second. But unfortunately all he could think about was how innocuous…how innocent the demon looked when he giggled, every time there was a particularly funny joke on the series. How he tilted his head slightly backwards and his scary eyes suddenly had a mischievous spark of joy in them.

Also the poison in his bloodstream and the excitement from the morning, left him exhausted, so his eyes kept wanting to fall shut, which of course Aziraphale couldn’t permit. This turned out to be quite the challenge with the constant murmur of the television show in the background and the sleepy heaviness of his body. His eyes lids slipped shut only for a second.

Aziraphale rushed back to conscious, trying to ban the groggy feeling from his head. The flat lay dark and empty, so apparently he hadn’t just been asleep for only a few seconds. Damn him and his heedlessness. A soft blanket was draped around his shoulders, and his tea cup stood on the table before him, still steaming. Aziraphale ignored the soft bubbles suddenly inhabiting his stomach. The only reason for his delight was the dark tartan pattern of the blanket and totally not the heart-warming kindness of the gesture. Probably the demon had hoped he would strangle himself to death with the heavy fabric. Yes, that must be it.

Crowley was gone, the TV was turned off and silence enveloped him. Perhaps Aziraphale would be able to make his escape now. Very silently he put down the blanket on the sofa (not without folding it, because he _did_ in fact have manners, thank you very much) and made his way over to the door. He remembered walking past the entrance earlier. Hopefully the front door wouldn’t be locked.

A strange feeling had settled in his gut. He really hoped Crowley wouldn’t catch him in his act of escape, but he also didn’t feel afraid. At least not of the demon himself. But Aziraphale cringed as he tried to picture his reaction, as he noticed that Aziraphale had gone. (And it totally wasn’t because Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to handle the disappointment on Crowley’s face. Because why would the demon be _disappointed,_ if he left. He would be glad of course. He was being silly.)

He had made it half way through the hallway when he noticed the voice talking in the distance. He couldn’t really make out any words, but it was definitely Crowley talking. Who was he talking to? In the middle of the night?

Aziraphale’s heart beat in his chest. The blood was pumping so loud, that he couldn’t make out any other noises. His hands were sweaty on the door knob. Freedom was only an inch away from him.

He should be going, he should make his escape. He really should.

He didn’t move.

On the other hand working out Crowley’s plans surely would do no harm, would it? If he could find out, who Crowley was talking to and what they were talking about, maybe he could use the information to his advantage. He could use his own plans against him. Thwarting the enemy, like every good angel should. Yes, that sounded very reasonable.

Persuading his legs to move was easier this time. Aziraphale changed his rout and walked towards the voice. It came from a room Aziraphale hadn’t yet been in. The door was slightly ajar, and a bit of light trickled from the inside into the dark hall. The movements inside drew monstrous shadows onto the walls.

Aziraphale could now make out certain words. He held his breath, trying to keep his heart from galloping away.

“Stupid, stupid stupid. Did you hear that? Stupid. He thinks you want to kill him and you just go there invading his personal space. Great fucking job.”

Who was he talking about? And who was he talking to? Aziraphale couldn’t hear any other person in the room. He couldn’t sense anyone either. But then again, he was practically blind with the poison still in his bloodstream. All he could get was a weird static picture. Maybe he was phoning someone?

“You just had to talk to him. Easy job. Talk like a normal human being. Well, not human. Just being. Not something someone could screw up after 6000 years, is it? Okay, just talk to him and explain the situation and don’t be a fucking drama queen about it for once. Stupid. Stupid.”

Aziraphale was getting more confused by the second.

Suddenly Crowley voice turned into a low growling. “Is that a SPOT? I told you what I think about spots.” A weird rustling noise followed. “This is your last chance. I’m warning you.”

Aziraphale could practically feel the fear radiating from the room. After all the unexpected kindness the demon had shown, the fear felt relieving in a way. It put everything back in order. Crowley wasn’t a good person. He was just a very good actor. He was still a terrible demon after all. Of course heaven had been right.

Then Aziraphale suddenly became aware of the situation. Crowley was threatening someone. Aziraphale nearly doubled over. What if he was going to kill the person? And he was without a weapon still. Oh god, he had to help.

Without thinking again about what he would actually do, he stormed into the room, eyes all furious and hair still screwed up from sleep.

“Don’t you dare hurt them, demon! I will…” He stopped.

There was no one in the room with Crowley. There was just a bunch of shivering plants. Crowley was holding a plant mister, looking very startled by Aziraphale’s sudden intervention. “Uhm…” he said awkwardly.

“Where is the person you were talking to?” Aziraphale demanded, still pulsating with anger. A few heavenly sparks escaped him, like he was a divine burnt fuse, but he wasn’t able to channel his energy.

“What person?” Crowley said, nervously shifting from one leg to the other.

“The one you threatened to kill!”

“Oh.” Suddenly it seemed to dawn on Crowley and his ears went incredibly red. “Ur, um, there’s, um, there’s not really a person. I was talking to my plants.”

“Your plants?” Aziraphale blankly looked at the shivering plants. They looked absolutely perfect, all green and vibrant, beautiful leafs and blossoms.

Crowley pushed the sunglasses up his nose. “Yeah, um, it makes them grow better.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s shoulder slumped down, suddenly all energy gone. Maybe it was just his imagination but the light in the room seemed to dim down to normal levels.

Crowley was still standing there, all red, and the plant mister in hand. They avoided looking each other in the eye. The uncomfortable silence stretched for a few more seconds.

Crowley was the first to attempt and break the silence. He tried to clear his throat. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes I think so.”

“’s good, I suppose.”

After even more of silence, Crowley went back to spraying his plants, although this time he carefully kept from shouting death threats at them. Aziraphale studied him uncertainly. He felt like he should leave, like he was invading a very personal moment, but his feet were stuck in place. Maybe it was the calmness of the hour, the darkness outside the widows or his sudden lack in energy, because it obviously wasn’t the demon’s company.

He sat down on the cold tiles of the floor to relief his legs from the strain. Still his eyes were glued to Crowley’s svelte motions. It was quite fascinating, hypnotic. Crowley had a certain lightness and ease to him that plump Aziraphale wouldn’t never be able to reach.

The words tumbled out of his mouth before they could actually reach his brain. If they had, Aziraphale would of course have prevented them from ever seeing the light of day. Well the darkness of night, in this case. “You’re quite different than I expected.”

Crowley’s grip on the plant mister tightened subconsciously, his posture remained cool. “How so?”

“I don’t know. Less brutal, for a start. More elegantly _deceitful_.”

“What did you expect? That I eat children’s flesh for lunch?”

“Maybe,” he was looking Crowley over, who had stopped mid motion to look at him in turn, “do you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Mhm.” On second look Aziraphale could actually make out Crowley’s snake-ish nature. He hadn’t noticed the first time around, because he was too busy with fearing for his life, but now in this weird state of peace, he recognised in the way Crowley dragged his legs, held his back and moved his head.

“Your also better looking. I reckoned you’d be more, well snake, but I can barely make out any sign at all.”

“Was that a compliment?” Crowley grinned.

“Certainly not. Merely an observation.”

Crowley shrugged, still grinning. “Don’t really like it. The others tend to show more of their animalistic side, but I like the way the humans look. ‘s nice. Having hands and all that. Although, to be honest I haven’t really got the hang of legs yet.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Oi, what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing it all.”

A few more sprays with the water bottle. A small sprout shot up several centimetres in height, as Crowley hand came only close to touching it. Crowley grunted in satisfaction.

“But you do still transform into your other form?”

“Yeah, I suppose. It’s more comfortable sometimes. And easier to get somewhere small, you know. And as a disguise.”

The question lingered in the air between them, but nobody dared to speak it. Finally Aziraphale managed to move his lips that seemed to be glued together. He had to fight against a wall of uncertainty to get them out. “So you were using it as a disguise with me?”

Crowley stopped again, carefully looking over at Aziraphale. He took his time to answer. “I guess so. I- I don’t really know what I was thinking in the first place. I just thought you probably would just kill me if I approached you in my human form, so yeah being a snake was easier.” He sniffed.

“But why did you want to approach me in the first place?”

Crowley sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I was just lonely, and you’re the only other supernatural being on this whole dammed planet. Do I need to have a reason for everything?”

“You’re a demon. I think it’s fair to say you have a reason for everything.”

Crowley didn’t answer immediately. He seemed somehow very vulnerable, standing in the dim lights, staring at the ground, like thinking of a distant memory. And for a slight second Aziraphale wondered, if maybe he really was lonely and lost, just like Aziraphale. “Well, maybe I’m just bad at being at demon.” Crowley mumbled and quickly turned back towards his plants.

Aziraphale didn’t answer. Crowley’s words had struck something in him, he thought nobody would ever be able to understand. Truth was, Aziraphale often wondered himself, if he was worthy of his position. Was he really good at being an angel, if every second in heaven made him feel the worst, if he couldn’t understand the things the other angels cared about so deeply? Maybe, he wondered, he was meant to fall after all. Maybe it was too late for him, if he was already thinking like a demon.

The dark thoughts kept dwelling inside his chest, so Aziraphale did the thing he always did. He bottled them up and put them in the furthest corner of his mind, where everything was covered in cobwebs and he wouldn’t dare to search for them.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you were quite the good snake friend,” Aziraphale said. He pretended not to notice the warmth and thankfulness in Crowley’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Aziraphale is a bit oblivious and, as usual, clinging to the things heaven has taught him. I don’t know who first came up with the idea that Crowley watches Golden Girls, but I love how the fandom has collectively agreed on it at this point.
> 
> Also thank you so much for all the nice comments! It feels really good to know I’m not the only one enjoying the story so far. See you tomorrow!


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a bit of a break down (as usual). The two come to an arrangement (that isn’t yet worthy of the defining article).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: swearing, but a lot more cause we’re back to Crowley’s perspective

Crowley was very much questioning his judgment at this point. Why the heavens had he been thinking it would be a good idea to bring Aziraphale to his flat? Why hadn’t he just saved him from the cult people and brought him back to the bloody bookshop? It would have been fine, Aziraphale would have been fine. No need to hover around him like a fucking overprotective lunatic. And maybe he would have put off the things, he had seen, as a side effect of the poison and then they would have kept meeting every Sunday and he would have still given him this perfect, bright, beautiful smile of his.

It was totally unfair. The way Aziraphale sparked with anger now, every time he saw Crowley. The way he eyed him like a dangerous trap that was about to set of every second. Aziraphale’s eyes weren’t meant to be angry like that. They were meant to sparkle with joy and enthusiasm about a good wine or book. They were meant to smile in fondness down upon Crowley.

No, not _Crowley_ , he reminded himself. On the snake. Aziraphale would never smile upon a demon. Crowley didn’t even deserve his smile. He was unworthy of the angels love. He was unworthy of anyone’s love.

He snarled down angrily at the box of pastries in his hand. (Which he totally didn’t buy, because he remembered Aziraphale talking about how much he loved the goods from that specific bakery) He had a rather long internal debate about throwing them into the next bin. But his treacherous hand wouldn’t let go and the cute fond on the box just screamed Aziraphale’s name at him. It would be a waste anyway. He could just give them to Aziraphale and the angel could then decide if he wanted to throw them away. (And maybe he would finally give him another smile? Just the tiniest hint? Was that too much to ask?)

Crowley had been sitting motionless on a very not specific bench in St. James Park the whole morning, caught in a spiral of dark thoughts and self-pity. The park was still deserted, only the few ducks keeping him company and occasionally throwing him an indignant look, because he wouldn’t feed the pastries to them. Maybe he should do that. Did ducks like pastries?

When he had left early before sunrise, to clear his head in the brisk air, Aziraphale had still been asleep. It was what the angel usually had been up to in the last days. He still seemed exhausted, black rings in the soft skin under his eyes. And Crowley totally wasn’t worried by that.

Crowley was pathetic. Aziraphale’s rejection and aversion shouldn’t put him down like this. He shouldn’t be so needy, so _clingy_. What did it matter, if Aziraphale didn’t smile at him anymore? What did it matter, that he wasn’t allowed to wrap himself around his soft body anymore? It shouldn’t be a problem. It never had been a problem in the 6000 years before they had finally met.

He took a deep breath. Oh yes, Crowley remembered that fateful day in all its glory. The day everything went pear shaped.

_“Oh, and who might you be?”_

_Crowley reluctantly pulled open one of his eyes. The wood under him was pleasantly hot, a soft summer breeze flowing over his skin. He had no intention of leaving his relaxing position anytime soon. Stupid humans just couldn’t leave him alone. Hadn’t they by now learned that their curiosity would only get them into trouble? They should know better than to disturb a snake, relaxing in the sun._

_To his horror it wasn’t a human that was leaning over him, blocking out the sunlight that had previously been heating Crowley’s scales. It was an angel. Crowley could feel the powerful halo that was sitting right above his white curls. He could feel the bright energy oozing from his core. He tried to supress a fearful, very undemonic shriek._

_In all his time on earth Crowley had made sure to stay at least several miles away from any angelic operation. Getting discorporated by that wanker Gabriel back in the Garden of Eden, after tempting Eve into taking a bite of that stupid apple, was enough experience of that for all eternity, thank you very much. But it had been years since Crowley had last seen any of heavens representatives, and he had assumed they had all gotten their posh angelic arses back to heaven’s safety. Listening to the sound of music or something, whatever these bloody angels did in their free time._

_And now, just his luck, this specimen, glistening like a fucking nuclear power station, was standing right in front of him. Oh, Crowley could already see the piles of paperwork this would put him through. What a day this would be. Maybe he could somehow escape his imminent death, outwit his adversary? He shifted his position, so he would be able to get away faster. His blood felt freezing cold in his veins._

_To his great surprise the angel only smiled. “Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” He carefully took a seat on the bench next to him. “Don’t mind me, just go back to whatever it is you have been doing.”_

_Crowley didn’t move. He took in the relaxed posture, the comfortable look the angel was giving him. What the actual fuck was happening here? His tongue darted out between his fangs. All he could smell was contentment, and the distress of the ice cream vendor a few feet away._

_The angel chuckled. “Oh, really, you don’t have to be afraid, my dear,” he leaned closer and started to whisper. A soft smile lay on his lips, like they were sharing a particularly amusing secret. “I am an angel, you see. I’m here to protect you. You don’t need to worry.”_

_The angel’s smell still lingered in Crowley’s nostrils as he had already leaned back over. He smelled of old paper and something exotic that could have been tea?_

_Crowley was fascinated. It quickly occurred to him, that his serpent form probably was the thing that kept him from dying a gruesome death. The angel must have assumed him to only be a regular snake, living somewhere in the depths of the park. What luck he had for once._

_And what luck he had indeed, because he sensed that this angel was different. Different than any other angel Crowley had ever seen before. He was soft and round and he looked like his clothes had been fabricated some when back in the last century. He even had a bloody bowtie! But just that made him even more interesting to Crowley, because it made him unique, not as blank and empty as angel’s outfits usually tended to be. Impersonal and superficial, just like he remembered heaven. But this, this outdated, somehow annoyingly sweet outfit…It gave him a_ character _._

_Oh and his smile! Now that Crowley had more time to take it in, it actually seemed to brighten the atmosphere around them. He smiled at each and everything with such wonder and joy, he looked like he was a new born seeing the world for the first time. Crowley couldn’t take his eyes off him. If he had been in human form, he probably would have been rudely staring, his mouth falling slightly open._

_Thankfully it only looked half as stupid in his snake form. Still the angel laughed. A sweet little sound, which was quickly hidden behind a hand and a short glance in his direction. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s really not that bad.”_

_Crowley tilted his head._

_“Oh I am really terrible with introductions. Let’s do this again, shall we?” His smile warmed Crowley’s body even more than the sun could ever have. “My name is Aziraphale.”_

Crowley shook his head, trying to escape the memory. There was no sense in dwelling in the past. He should go home. Home to _his_ Aziraphale, home to the Aziraphale that actually still needed his help. Home to the Aziraphale, whom he had bought the pastries in his hand for as an offer of peace. Because no matter how much Crowley wanted their old familiarity, their old friendship, back, even he couldn’t change the past. So he would have to do what he was best at: Arrange himself with the situation.

++++++++++++++++++

Aziraphale was in the kitchen, when Crowley walked in. He was making tea, awfully inconveniently with a real kettle, which Crowley didn’t even know he possessed. The scene was so domestic, that it did funny things to Crowley’s insides. He imagined being a normal human being, coming home after a night shift, bringing breakfast for his husband and giving him a small peck on his lips as a greeting. Which was utterly ridiculous, because one Crowley would never ever choose to work and second they were not in some kind of stupid romcom. There would be no marriage, no fluffy routine and definitely no kissing. Urg.

“I brought breakfast,” Crowley’s voice said anyway, and _fuck_ it sounded way too hoarse for his liking.

Aziraphale looked up from his tea. His curls were even messier than last night, sticking out in various beautiful angles. It looked so soft that Crowley had the sudden urge to turn into a snake and use it as a pillow. Fucking stupid brain.

“I made tea,” Aziraphale said and handed him a cup.

Crowley’s brain short-circuited. The warmth suddenly pressed into his palm robbed him of every sensible answer he was ever about to give (not that he gave a lot of those anyway). That seemed to be a pattern with Aziraphale. He was not sure he liked it. “You made tea for me?” he was finally able to produce.

“Oh please. Don’t get all flattered. You made tea for me, so it was my responsibility to return the favour.”

Crowley made a grunting noise and took a sip from the tea. It was still burning hot and his tongue blistered when it came in contact with the fluid, but it had the great advantage that he didn’t have to say anything. Then he remembered the pastries, so he turned around to grab the box from the counter behind him and hand it to Aziraphale.

“Here, walked past it on my way and thought you could use some decent food.” He totally wasn’t blushing. It was just a trick of the light. And a remnant from the cold outside.

Aziraphale’s eyes jumped from Crowley to the food and back to Crowley. “Is this a temptation?”

“Blimey, can’t you ever do anything without a second thought?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I tend not to.”

Crowley pushed himself away from the kitchen counter. “Well, maybe you should, because this guardedness is really starting to get on my nerves. It’s just food for heaven’s sake. Nobody has ever gone to hell because of food. And now eat your fucking pastries.”

He shoved the box into Aziraphale’s hands more forcefully. This time the angel didn’t protest.

“I’m just trying to protect myself.”

Crowley huffed. “Well, try protecting yourself from that sharp icing. It may slice your tongue or something.”

They sat on the sofa again after that. Crowley had started to notice that his sofa had just the right size to do this. If they sat at both ends, they were still far enough apart from each other that it wouldn’t seem, like he was invading Aziraphale’s personal space. On the other hand it was short enough for him to feels Aziraphale’s warmth and for the angels smell to settle lightly in Crowley’s nose every time he took a breath. Crowley really wanted to throw himself at Aziraphale wrap his skinny body around the angel’s softness and…NO Still not going there. But maybe if the sofa miraculously turned out to be a few inches shorter tomorrow?

Crowley watched carefully as Aziraphale took the first bite from his breakfast. He noticed the way the corner of the angel’s lips turned up for a split second as the flavours exploded on his tongue. He absorbed the slight content hum and the happiness that suddenly sparked in Aziraphale’s aura.

Then Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was watching and his smile died as quickly as it came. Still this time his glares felt a lot less terrible, because the seed of gratitude and appreciation in his aura stayed, even as he shifted farther away from Crowley, pressing himself into the furthest corner of the sofa. And that gave Crowley enough hope to start his conversation again.

“We should get back to the cult hideout. Apparently they’re really serious about their whole business.”

Aziraphale huffed and took another bite. “Yes, I did get that impression. Although I don’t really see what the point should be. We didn’t see anything the first time round, did we?”

Crowley’s heart did a little jump at the _we_ coming out of Aziraphale’s mouth. “No I mean, but the first time we had to get away so quickly.”

Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed, as he tried to shoot an intimidating glare in Crowley’s direction. The colourful sprinkled pastries in his hand kind of ruined the gesture. “Don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t my fault.”

“It was though.”

“You attacked me!”

“You had to squeak like a fucking bunny getting murdered by a snake or something!”

“Well yes, because I was getting murdered by a snake!”

“I didn’t- oh, you know what? Never mind.” Crowley pinched his nose and let out an exhausted huff.

Aziraphale leaned back with a presumptuous scoff and popped another pastry in his mouth. He really was a bastard that angle. Crowley couldn’t say he didn’t like it. It was infuriating and endearing the same time.

“Well, what I meant is, we should probably do something about it, before they really do start Armageddon a year too early.”

“And how exactly would you go about doing that?”

“As I said, we could go back and look for clues of what their plan is. Then, if we know said plan, we can think about any possible counter actions.”

“And why do you think we would find anything? Maybe they’re just waiting for us to show up again, so they can murder us for good.”

“Well, we’re together this time,” Crowley said, then he realised _what_ exactly he had said and blushed furiously, “we can watch each other’s backs.”

He waited for Aziraphale to say something offensive. That he would never let a demon watch his back, that he’d rather go alone again and risk the possibility of death, or put off his whole plan as outrageous and stupid.

Instead a thoughtful expression crossed over his face. Slowly he put down the box with the pastries and scraped away the sugar from his fingers. The silence was deafening. “Well, I guess having another look around couldn’t hurt. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Crowley stopped breathing. “So that’s a yes?” His face lit up into a bright grin. It was so bright it hurt the corners of his mouth.

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes.”

It needed all of Crowley’s strength not to start dancing through the room like a four year old. Or maybe throw himself at Aziraphale. Bloody hell. What was it with throwing himself at him that seemed so appealing to his brain? They weren’t at the hugging stage yet, were they? Oh, no definitely not. Aziraphale would probably murder him.

Aziraphale seemed to notice Crowley’s delight anyway, because he quickly doubled back. “But I still don’t trust you.”

The statement couldn’t ruin Crowley’s mood. He was currently hovering several feet above the sofa’s seat, carried by the pure high of his feelings. He would get another chance. Get to spend more time with the angel. “You made me tea,” he couldn’t help but point out with a grin.

“I said it was merely a polite gesture.”

Crowley shook his head fondly, but didn’t push the matter any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was originally a lot shorter. Then I wrote the flashback, which was actually supposed to go somewhere into the second to last chapter. Also we finally know, why Crowley and Aziraphale never met in the Garden of Eden (always blame it on Gabriel).
> 
> I’m back at my parents’ for the weekend and my sister keeps signing me up for various fanfic ideas every day. So we’ll see if that will ever lead somewhere. 
> 
> Next chapter will be a bit of an adventure, so stay tuned!


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bois try to find the cultist and go on their first official dinner (lunch) date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: swearing, mention of homophobia. Also there is a short bit at the end that’s pretty close to a panic attack.

“Crowley, you can’t do ninety miles per hour in central London.” Aziraphale cried, while gripping the handhold on the car door for dear life.

“Why not?” Crowley asked, and even had the nerve to let go of the steering wheel, brightly grinning at Aziraphale.

“You’ll get us killed…well, inconveniently discorporated.” He closed his eyes, trying to fight the upcoming nausea. Also he wanted to shut out the way, Crowley swayed around another pedestrian with only millimetres between them and the car.

“Oh shut up, I know what I’m doing.”

“I very much doubt that statement.”

It was the day after their fateful conversation and Aziraphale was already regretting his decision. Well partly regretting his decision, if it meant he was to end as a miserable grease spot on the nearest tree. It would be a nightmare to explain the situation to Gabriel.

_Yes, well, you see, I was in the car with my hereditary enemy, who has absolutely no sense for road safety laws and…_ Aziraphale shook his head to get rid of the unsettling thought. Heaven would never find out about this. They _could_ not find out about it.

Somehow however he didn’t regret his consent to work with the demon. The way Crowley had been happily rambling all morning and smiling every time his eyes fell on Aziraphale was in large parts responsible for that. A very fuzzy feeling bubbled up in Aziraphale’s stomach and he wasn’t sure if it was only the sandwiches he had eaten for breakfast.

In general Aziraphale felt way better. This morning he already had been able to miracle up his tea. Probably the effects of the poison would be gone by tomorrow.

He found himself carefully studying Crowley again, more than was probably appropriate. His slim figure was reclined over the steering wheel. He was quietly humming and tapping along to the song that was currently playing. He seemed genuinely…happy.

Crowley, apparently noticing Aziraphale’s staring, turned around. “What?”

Aziraphale could see his blushing reflecting in Crowley’s sunglasses. “It’s nothing, just the…music.”

“Oh you like it? It’s Queen,” Crowley said and turned the volume up a bit.

Aziraphale didn’t answer, although he didn’t really care about the music and everything written past 1930 would only categorize as ‘bebop’ is his opinion. No, he couldn’t answer, because Crowley’s smile was so bright and he was so excited about Aziraphale liking his band that he nearly ran over a group of school children, incredibly engaged in talking about their greatest albums and hits. He was talking and he was _happy_ talking to Aziraphale, an experience the angel hadn’t shared with anyone else before. Crowley cared about what Aziraphale had to say and in return he wanted to share the things he liked with him.

And somehow it was getting really hard to breathe and Aziraphale’s heart started beating really fast. He couldn’t look away, because his vision began to blur out everything except the spark of joy behind Crowley’s dark glasses and that amazing smile surrounded by soft lips.

And Aziraphale decided that the venom must have weird side effects he hadn’t yet known about.

+++++++++++++

“You better stay behind me,” Crowley whispered as they entered the dark corridor. The chilly air inside was a drastic change to the intense warmth the spring sun had spread on his skin outside. Also the dirty walls were somehow giving him the creeps. He expected another cultist with an axe or something behind every corner.

They had rounded the building a few times, searching for a different entrance, so the cultist would be caught off guard by their presence. Now as they slowly crept deeper into the building, the only thing audible was their heavy breathing and their muffled steps.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything. He had been awfully quite most of the ride. Crowley feared that maybe he was regretting his decision. What if he was only staying, because he was afraid of Crowley? Or if he was just looking for a way out? What if something happened to him? What if he got hurt? It would be all Crowley’s fault. What if…

Crowley was so caught up in his worrying, that he didn’t notice the nearly invisible string leading from one wall of the corridor to the other. So he was very surprised when Aziraphale suddenly shouted “Watch out!” and grabbed him by his collar, shoving him backwards.

Everything happened really quickly. The blade that had been hidden in the ceiling boards swished downwards, hurtling to the floor with a deafening bang.

Nobody dared to move as the echo died away in the empty halls. Crowley gulped as he took a look at the gleaming steel that had been supposed to cut open his head, or whatever unfortunate body part would have been in its way. 

Then he became aware of the warmth still pressed to his back. Aziraphale’s hand was still lingering right next to his neck and Crowley could feel it. He could feel his warmth and his touch and maybe his head just broke, because he couldn’t do anything apart from focusing on how incredibly _good_ this felt. Great, so him going into panic mode because of a few square centimetres body contact was apparently a thing now.

Suddenly Aziraphale seemed to get over the shock of the situation as well and let go off Crowley, quickly stumbling away a few meters.

Crowley’s body screamed at the sudden lack of warmth on the spot, where they had touched. Also Crowley decided he would never change that jacket again. Not that he ever did. Maybe he should sell the piece of fabric, perhaps it was blessed now. It had certainly felt like it.

“Animals,” Aziraphale scolded.

Crowley took another deep breath. He was very glad his verbal apparatus decided to work again, although his throat felt very tight. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely the near death experience’s fault. “Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, angel. Only humans do that.” He bent down to inspect the trap, carefully avoiding to set lose any more mechanisms.

“Well yes, I had the misfortune of making the acquaintance of this method in Paris in 1793. Very unpleasant if I might say so. The paperwork was a complete nightmare.”

Crowley tried very hard not to picture Aziraphale’s chopped off head, the blood gathering in his white curls, his eyes blunt and dead. If he had had a time machine, he would have jumped back to that moment and saved Aziraphale from the awful experience.

Although he had rather avoid eye contact at the moment in the fear of doing something very stupid, he still had to look over and make sure the angel was standing beside him unharmed. And then he nearly discorporated himself a second time, stumbling backwards dangerously close to the blade, because Aziraphale looked so worried. His eyes were wide and his hands were fiddling in front of his chest, not really knowing what to do.

Crowley heart was beating way too loud. It should have made the walls around them tumble into ruins. His sunglasses set between them like a shield, because his eyes probably showed emotions equal to the ones in Aziraphale’s.

“You-you saved my life.”

“I did not,” Aziraphale quickly objected, as though he seemed equally terrified by the situation.

Crowley tried to clear his throat. “Should I say…thank you?” It was more a whisper than anything else.

The corners of Aziraphale’s mouth tucked upwards only for a second, the sadness in his eyes never leaving. “Better not.”

It made Crowley’s chest physically hurt. There was just so much stuffed inside, feelings that wanted to break out and wrap themselves around Aziraphale. He was like a damn that was filled to its rim and if the flood, filling him up, would continue steadily dripping, the cracks would get bigger until he would finally burst.

Good thing he was really good at building and reinforcing damns. So he only returned the smile and heaved himself back to his feet. “We should be more careful.”

They encountered three more traps on their way, but this time Crowley was attentive enough to spot them. (Although he would have had no problem with setting off a few more if it meant that Aziraphale would come to his rescue again.)

Finally they made it to a region that looked more familiar. The balcony was exactly as he remembered it and the pool still lay dark beneath them. It was silent. A few birds sitting just beneath the roof were the only origins of sound.

They snuck around, until they were crouched behind another stack of boxes. Crowley was reminded of their first time they sat here and rubbed his stomach in painful memory. Then Aziraphale’s side brushed against Crowley’s and he got another taste of that beautiful softness. Crowley stopped breathing. He should really concentrate.

“Where is everyone?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley shrugged. Aziraphale was right. Nothing and no one was to be seen. Everything laid silent and even the terrarium with the snake was gone.

“Maybe they’re gone?”

Crowley sniffed. “Only one way to find out,” he said and swung his legs over the railing before them.

“No Crowley! What are you doing?!” Aziraphale hissed, but Crowley had already landed in a cloud of dust on the dirty tiles of the pool.

He brushed off his clothes and looked around. The tank was as deserted as it had seemed from above. There weren’t any traces left that indicated a cult had ever been here. It just looked like an old boring pool.

“It’s safe,” he told Aziraphale, who he could still see cowering upstairs.

“And how do you know?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Hey cult people! I think you’re hoods are real ugly and overdramatic!” he shouted. His voice was reflected thousand fold from the bare walls. Nothing happened. He raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale huffed but made his way downstairs. “You’re really going to get us in trouble one of these days,” he scolded.

Crowley grinned. The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up with its contents. “Good thing I have you then. For stopping us from getting into trouble.”

“And here I was, thinking I was a warrior in God’s army. Really I’m just a babysitter for a demon. What a demotion.”

The feelings started spilling from another leak. A sudden jolt of happiness and warmth rushing through his body. Crowley took a very heavy hammer and nailed several planks over the cracks. The foolish, lazy grin faded into a more normal one. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

They searched the room in silence, but there was nothing to be found. The cultist had done a very good job at hiding their tracks. Only bird shit, rat shit and other sorts of shit. It was just as shit as the situation.

“What now?” Aziraphale asked.

“I don’t know. Back to the Bentley,” he motioned vaguely for the direction he assumed his car was parked, “they must have relocated after their headquarters got infiltrated several times. We need to take a different approach.”

“And what would that be?”

Crowley sighed. “I don’t know.” He ran his hand over his eyes in a tired motion.

Not only didn’t they have a clue as to where the cult was now, but being stranded like that would probably also mean that Aziraphale would leave. They had looked for clues and found nothing. They had talked about nothing else in their arrangement.

Again his mouth was faster than his brain. He should really have a talk with it some time. “You know what? Let’s have lunch first. Breaks are always good for firing your brain back up.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Of course. This statement could only come from a demon,” he said, but followed him anyway.

++++++++++++++++

Aziraphale took another bite from his cake and made a happy humming noise as the taste settled on his taste buds. Crowley wasn’t consuming anything. Aziraphale had come to learn that he rarely did (apart from alcohol).

He could feel the demon’s eyes on him though, and it made the areas flush with warmth.

Something was different between them. Something unspoken hung in the air, waiting to crash down and turn everything upside down. Maybe it was a thank you. The thank you playing on Crowley lips since after Aziraphale had pushed him out of the line of danger earlier that day.

Maybe it was the apology that was playing on Aziraphale’s lips. The apology he desperately wanted to scream in Crowley’s face. _I’m sorry I treated you like a beast of hell, because actually I think that deep down you are quite a nice person._

No, no, no. He gave himself a mental slap.

He was doing it. Doing what the angels had warned him about so many times. He was falling for the demon’s tricks. He was lulling him into a daze and then he would strike when he was vulnerable. (When that was supposed to be exactly Aziraphale wasn’t certain, because in his opinion Crowley had already seen plenty _vulnerable_ of him.)

Also Aziraphale’s heart started picking up pace, every time he thought of that moment his hand had laid on Crowley’s back. The soft fabric of his jacket, his warmth, and the muscles he could feel working under his skinny frame.

No, no, no. He needed to get his focus back.

“We could talk to some of the locals,” he suggested and watched as Crowley’s face turned into a grimace.

There was something about locals Aziraphale remembered. Something before he had gone to the warehouse the second time, before he had gotten himself poisoned. He had talked to some of the humans here hadn’t he?

“Humans…don’t really like to talk to me,” Crowley tried to argue. Although Aziraphale had the feeling he was really trying to distract from something else.

“Do you have a better idea? One single better idea?” Aziraphale said, underlining every of his words with a small motion of his fork.

Crowley let out a sigh and rested his elbows on the sticky table. “Fine. But you’ll have to do the talking.”

Aziraphale took another bite from his cake. They stayed silent watching the other guest in the small diner they had seated in. The soft murmur of talking was quite relaxing and every now and again the cook would call up one of the costumers.

“I always thought you demons were really good with people. You know…charismatic…tempting…” He raised his eyebrows.

Crowley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “People yes. People in small towns no.”

Aziraphale shot him an expectant look over another piece of cake.

“Ngk okay, see I don’t really give off particularly conservative vibes? The clothes for ones, the sunglasses, the… hair.”

“The…hair?” Aziraphale repeated bemused.

Crowley started wiggling around under Aziraphale’s questioning gaze. Aziraphale was suddenly painfully reminded of the animal that was hidden somewhere inside him.

“Small towns…they have a tendency to hate people that are…different? Back then with the witches and now with…you know…other stuff, um...the rainbow flag…”

Aziraphale mouthed a small ‘oh’. He had expected a lot of explanations, but certainly not this. He had expected Crowley to tell him, that he was a wanted criminal there, because he had broken the speed limit too many times and listened to his weird _King_ band on unnatural volumes (which he had). He had expected Crowley to tell him, that the town people despised him, because he had set fire to way to many barbecues (which he had) and maybe set free some of their cows (which he had). But he certainly hadn’t expected him to tell him, that it was because his looks didn’t fill particular conventional gender roles, or yes maybe looked a bit _gay_ (Aziraphale certainly knew what he was talking about), or whatever else Crowley might be implying with his statement.

Also it startled him how uncomfortable the demon looked by this revelation. He avoided looking into Aziraphale’s eyes and his foot under the table was restlessly tapping up and down.

“Well, I’m certain we won’t encounter any similar problems in that town. I’ve only been there a few minutes but Tadfield seemed very lovely.” He was only saying this of course to defend that poor town’s repetition and not to calm Crowley’s nerves. After all he was sure the demon was planning something incredibly… demonic with telling him this. Yes, probably it was just to throw him off course.

Surprisingly, no unsurprisingly, because Aziraphale had already uncovered that Crowley hadn’t been serious about his statements, Crowley didn’t react to his reinsurances. “Tadfield?” he asked, suddenly very stiff.

“Yes, that’s the name of the town. Why? Anything the matter?”

“Um, no, nothing at all.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Maybe he was closer to uncovering Crowley’s true plan than he thought. Probably there was something really bad lying just beneath the surface of that peaceful town and it was all the demon’s fault. Maybe it was…

Then suddenly realisation hit him like a bolt of lightning. His fork clattered down on his plate. “The abduction! Oh, how could I forget about this?! The poor child! They must be out of their mind!”

Crowley looked at him in confusion. “Abduction? Child? What the heavens are you talking about?”

Now that the sudden fear had flooded Aziraphale’s head he had completely forgotten about his suspicions towards Crowley. The words just flowed out of his mouth, his stomach cramping with worry. “There was this child. They were pulled into a van by hooded figures. I thought it was the cult, that’s why I went back there in the first place. I completely forgot about it with all that happened after. The poison must have been blocking my memories. Oh the poor soul!”

“Calm down, angel. Where did you see this?”

“It was in Tadfield. I talked to their friends afterwards. They were so worried about them and I just forgot about it!” The guilt and worry began swirling around in his head, trying to drag him down into a pitch black pool of self-doubt. Suddenly everything in the room seemed way too loud. The music, the mumbling of people talking. It was like someone had put a speaker right next to his ear, playing the whole scenario on incredibly low quality. It was horrible.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder. The warmth seeping through his clothes snapped him back into reality. Crowley’s sunglasses were hovering only few centimetres before him. Aziraphale didn’t dare to breathe. He could smell the cinder wood and smoke, the same smell that had clung to Crowley’s sheets.

And Crowley was so close. The touch sent the same electricity through his body that it had earlier in the factory.

Crowley smiled. “Don’t worry angel. We’ll find them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is giving me an incredibly tough time balancing the word count for the chapters.   
> So yeah Aziraphale finally remembered Pepper. Also a bit more serious talk for the two this time. A bit.   
> Tomorrow we’ll finally meet Adam, Wensley and Brian again. But brace yourselves we’re also getting closer to the angst.


End file.
